


Disheveled Dead End

by Dragoness Eclectic (DragonessEclectic)



Series: Stunticon Stories [14]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: 28 Dead Ends, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 04:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonessEclectic/pseuds/Dragoness%20Eclectic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drag Strip wants to know how Dead End ended up such a horrible mess...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disheveled Dead End

At the clank of metal feet on metal floor, Drag Strip looked up from the tuning job he was doing on his injectors.

"Deadster! What the slag did you _do_ to yourself? And don't get that dross near me!" snapped the yellow Stunticon. The normally dark red and white Dead End was covered from helm to back wheels with sticky black goo. Small blobs of it slid off him and dropped on the floor.

"I tried to tell Motormaster that we needed more than Wildrider and I," Dead End replied dourly. "Where's Moto?"

"Yeah? I thought you just said you were doomed if you went on the mission," Drag Strip replied with a dismissive wave of one hand. The other hand held a wrench; he finished tightening a bolt in his chest, then held a meter to a connector there. Apparently satisfied, he started replacing chest panels.

"Well, yes, but that's what I meant," Dead End said.

Drag Strip watched in fascination as another blob of tarry black stuff slid down Dead End's elbow and hung suspended for a small eternity. The yellow Stunticon caught himself before he screamed at it to "Fall, slag you!" It was just that annoying.

"So where's Wildrider? He as big a mess as you?" Drag Strip sneered, putting his tools away. They were _his_ personal tools, he'd be slagged to small droplets of steel before he'd let someone else muck around with them.

"Ah, that's what I need Motormaster for," Dead End said, something a bit furtive in his tone and in the dimming glow of his visor.

"Whaddaya mean, you need Motormaster?" Drag Strip said, his tone shifting from contempt to puzzled curiousity.

"He's tall enough to reach Wildrider," Dead End replied, definitely evasive now.

"Right! I want to hear this," Drag Strip said. "And what is that stuff all over you?"

"Tar, or more precisely, asphalt," Dead End said, sighing.

"What, you mix it up with a wild road paver?" Drag Strip said, chuckling at Dead End's misfortune.

"Ah, you remember the mission Wildrider and I were sent on, to that California tourist attraction? The Autobots anticipated that we'd go for the tourist-hostages, unfortunately." His tone was positively lugubrious as he added, "They brought Grimlock. We both ended up in the pools."

_The worst part hadn't been flying through the air to land in the hideous stuff with a sticky 'squelch'--it had been hearing Grimlock say, "Me Grimlock know what that stuff is! Me Grimlock know what to do--Slag, do fire stuff!"_

"I managed to get out the other side before he set fire to them; Wildrider dove to avoid them. Unfortunately, the material gets more viscous the deeper you go..." Dead End shrugged.

"Wha-? Wait, pools? Of that.. goo? Where'd you find that?" Drag Strip asked, completely confused.

"A part of Los Angeles I never want to see again. I am still a bit curious as to what they herded at Rancho La Brea, though."

\-- END --

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious: <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Brea_Tar_Pits>


End file.
